Wednesday, August 11, 2010
I love to laugh. A lot. I giggle inanely, I laugh out loud, I snort laugh at inappropriate moments, and have been known to let out the occasional guffaw. Sometimes it's just a polite ha ha ha at someone's lame joke or the silent, stifled, hand over the mouth and look away kind of laugh cause, well, it's just not right. (BUT OMG, HOW FUNNY! RIGHT?) Sometimes I just gaze off in to the distance with a goofy grin on my face cause something that caught my eye strikes me as particularly absurd or a vision of a dancing elephant in plaid golf shorts has wandered through while some random synapse in my brain misfires.
Often, I laugh at my own expense. I use self deprecating humor a lot, sometimes because it allows me to say outrageous things I wouldn't say otherwise (it's easy to admit to a crush when it's cloaked in a joke and not to be taken seriously), sometimes it's because I feel like if I make fun of myself FIRST it robs others of the opportunity to get in the dig I KNOW IS COMING. I've been kind of using it to excess lately, cause if I don't feel that great about myself, at least I'd rather laugh about it than cry.
Recent conversations with several friends have made me question my overuse of self deprecating humor. I mean, not only is it sort of like casting a big, bright spot light on my insecurities - which only gives those so inclined, MORE ammunition to use against me, not less, but with each bit of self deprecating humor it's like I'm chipping away at myself. I'm treating myself like I'm some sort of caricature - a doomed and confused Ziggy Comic strip come to life. To be laughed at, to be identified with during weak moments, but not real. Not a real person consisting of genuine hopes, dreams, sadness, passions, ambitions & longings. But a joke. A big fat JOKE.
I remember having an acquaintance who became sober and drug free after years of living an absolute INSANE lifestyle of parties, stupid stunts, and humiliating moments. It was the first time I had seen him sober and he was a laugh a minute. All self deprecating humor about what he used to be. But it was all delivered with this fast, staccato, style - almost as if he were still on the cocaine he'd quit years earlier. His eyes never quite echoed the laughter in his voice and they never really quite could look into mine directly. The pain and self loathing behind every joke was almost palpable. I wanted to cry and hug him instead of laughing along and feeding the manic energy.
Sometimes I wonder if I sound like that.
I wonder if people pick up on the sadness and the rage and the loneliness. I wonder if instead of it making me seem happy go lucky, as if I'm just making the best of the random shit that has come in to my life, it instead makes me seem pathetic and sad? I wonder.